


pah pah power

by calciseptine



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, Talking, Universe Alteration, lots of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/calciseptine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Scott has Reasonable Doubts about Derek's new pack, and Stiles does what they should have done in the first place: talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pah pah power

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written directly after the events of S02E03, _Ice Pick_ , in which Derek tells Scott that he bit Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd as a means to become more powerful. As such, the kanima has been introduced but not identified, the alpha pack has not even been mentioned, Stiles and Derek have not swam together in the pool ~~of love~~ , and I was really optimistic about where the second season was going. AKA, I had faith that my babies would actually fucking talk to one another, rather than run around like chickens with their heads cut off and screw things up royally.
> 
> It's a good thing I love these idiots, I mean really. 
> 
> I didn't finish this story before _Abomination_ , and kinda forgot about it. So... better late than never, imma right?

"Power?" Stiles asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

"That's what he said!" Scott cries, his arms thrown up in the air for emphasis. His pacing is wearing a line in Stiles' carpet and his eyebrows are furrowed heavily. Normally Stiles is the one who worries while Scott is the one to reassure him; the reversal of their roles is disconcerting for Stiles.

"Is that why he chose Isaac? Erica? Boyd?" Allison interrupts. She's curled up on the end of Stiles' bed, her knees tucked under her chin. Her expression mirrors Scott's and Stiles wonders inanely if it's a couple thing or just a Scott-and-Allison thing. "Because it would be easy to keep them in line?"

"Maybe!" Scott makes a noise in the back of his throat that isn’t entirely human. His tone is high and bitter with frustration. "That would be just like him, though, to prey on the weak to his advantage."

For a moment, Stiles thinks of Peter, and how he had been terrified of Peter in a way that he had never been terrified of anyone, or anything. He remembers the way Peter smiled at him, all razor-sharp fangs and no compassion beneath his polite and handsome face; the fire had burned away the man Peter might once have been. Derek is the exact opposite of Peter because, despite all the teeth Derek shows, Stiles knows its just a façade for the gentle truth that lies beneath.

"That makes no sense," Stiles mutters before he can stop himself.

"It makes perfect sense!" Scott half-shouts. Stiles knows Scott considers his inability to deter Boyd from taking the bite makes him feel helpless, and that helplessness lends to agitation, but it's still annoying.

"No, it doesn't," Stiles snaps back. Allison grabs Scott's wrist as he passes by her; it stops Scott from interrupting. "Derek bit Jackson first. There's no way he was unaware of the fact that Jackson was a giant dick who wouldn't listen to him. If Derek were looking for obedience in his pack, he wouldn't have picked Jackson."

"Maybe he thought he could handle Jackson," Allison says. Scott makes another disbelieving, not-all-human sound.

"Maybe." Stiles cannot help but think of the way Derek looked at him sometimes, when he wasn't dying from a wolfsbane infection or worried about Scott revealing his lycanthropy to the general public or irritated with the world at large. Sometimes—usually when it was just them, passing painful hours in the solitude of Stiles' Jeep—the harsh planes of Derek's face would soften.

It makes Stiles imagine what Derek would look without his mask. 

"What are you trying to say, Stiles?" Allison prompts. "That Derek has a hidden agenda?"

Stiles shakes his head slowly. "No. I don't think he has ulterior motives or anything sinister like that. All he wants is a pack. It's just that I think he chose everyone—and that includes Jackson—for some other reason than how well he could control them."

("Brave, and clever, and loyal," Peter had told Stiles, after he had mauled Lydia and taken Stiles hostage. "Each are commendable traits by themselves, but in combination? I would be insane not to want you. Any alpha would.")

"But you should have seen how they sided with him, Stiles!" Scott carries on. "It was like they had been brainwashed!"

"I'm not saying that Derek _didn't_ choose them because he knew they would be obedient." Stiles waves a hand in the air, as though trying to catch his scattered and half-formed thoughts in his palm. "Because he did. He specifically chose Isaac and Erica and Boyd. But why Jackson too? If you want to stick with the mindless drone angle, it doesn't make sense."

Scott actually pauses at this and plops down on the foot of Stiles' bed when Allison scoots over. The quiet is strange and tense as they mull the idea over, wondering Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all have in common.

"Maybe we're overthinking this," Allison says softly. "Maybe Jackson was just a mistake. I mean, the bite didn't take. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"No," Stiles replies, "I guess it doesn't."

Yet, even as they move further into the conversation—what they're going to do now that Derek has three betas, how they should handle Boyd and Erica at school, if they should trust Derek at all—Stiles can't help but feel that he's missing something important.

.

Stiles can't leave the idea alone. He picks and picks and picks at it as though it were a scab. He should stop and just let the wound heal, but he is relentless even as it bleeds.

This inability to let sleeping dogs lie—or sleeping werewolves, whatever—is why Stiles trails Boyd back to Derek's new hangout. Following Boyd is one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions that tend to not work in Stiles' favor, which is why he's face-to-face with Erica for the second time in as many days. He probably should have texted Scott his plans, or his will.

Hindsight really is twenty/twenty.

"Stiles," Erica purrs as she swaggers into Stiles' personal space, her long arms looping around his neck in a parody of an embrace. It's possible that she's wearing less than she was the day before, which Stiles hadn't known was legal, let alone possible. "Have you come by to not-stare at me again?"

"I could stare at your eyes all day," Stiles responds as cheekily as he dares. Her lipstick is very, very red; the color suits the knife-like smirk on her face. "But can we reschedule? I'm here to talk to Derek."

Erica raises one of her perfect eyebrows, intrigued, even as her grip tightens in Stiles' jacket. Her claws prick even through the heavy coat, his button down, and the cotton t-shirt. "Talk to Derek?" she repeats thoughtfully, dangerously. "And why would you want to that? Or better yet, why should I let you?"

"Because I'm the only human in this mad werewolf world and—ahhh—!"

Stiles can't help the small yelp of pain that escapes his throat. He still has a low grade headache—and one hell of a gooseberry—from when Erica knocked him out with the commandeered car part a couple days ago, but he wasn't prepared for her to display more violence. He had known she was unafraid to hurt him, which is exactly what her iron grip and sharp claws are doing, but he had not expected it.

The pain is gone a moment later as Derek emerges, red-eyed, from the darkened building behind them and snarls. It's less powerful than the roar Derek had used at the police station to subdue Isaac, but Erica immediately flinches back as Isaac had. Her shoulders rise to her ears, her eyes widen, and her mouth softens in surprise. She looks like the girl Stiles used to know, unsure and contrite.

_She was human three days ago,_ Stiles thinks. It feels more like three years.

"Do not touch him," Derek commands as he pulls Erica away from Stiles, his fist tight in the back of her thin shirt. A supernatural growl tints each syllable as it tumbles into the air.

"But—" Erica tries, shrinking further even as she meets Derek's hard stare.

" _No!_ " Derek crowds over Erica and brandishes his teeth. Stiles has been on the end of those teeth—and that stare, and that disappointment—to feel an unexpected twinge of sympathy. He smothers it quickly. "You already harmed him twice even though I repeatedly told you that non-hunter humans were off limits. If it happens a third time, I will not let your disobedience go unpunished. Do you understand?"

Erica tries again, stumbling over, "I don't see why—"

" _Do you understand?_ "

"Jesus, yes!" Erica cries out, her hand cutting a short, curt, and abortive gesture. Then she glares at Stiles resentfully, as though it were all his fault. "I was just protecting us. You. He may be just human, but he's on Scott's side, you remember that, right?"

"What Stiles may or may not be is none of your concern," Derek says sharply. His eyes are still crimson. "I decide who is our ally and who is our enemy. Now, go get Boyd and Isaac and head down below. Do not come back up until I come get you."

"Derek—"

"I said now, Erica!"

Erica gives Stiles one last dirty look before she stalks away, her gold hair trailing in her wake. She snaps, "You heard the boss!" at Boyd and Isaac, who are lingering by the door. Isaac follows her into the darkness immediately; Boyd, however, pauses long enough to glance at them speculatively. Stiles doesn't know what Boyd concludes, he nods almost imperceptibly before he closes the door behind him.

"That wasn't awkward at all," Stiles comments a fraction of a second before Derek's hand is on his jaw. Instinctively, Stiles smacks Derek's chest and hisses, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Your head," Derek does not explain.

"Still attached!" Stiles tries to jerk out of Derek's hold, but the only way that would have been successful is if Derek was willing to let him go. Spoiler Alert: Derek doesn't want to let Stiles go.

"Unfortunately," Derek says gruffly but, miracles upon miracles, there's a smile around his mouth and his once more hazel eyes. Stiles likes to think that this is why, when Derek applies pressure to his jaw, he follows the force and tilts his head to the side.

Derek's fingers hover over the bump on Stiles' head before pressing down lightly. The pressure moves immediately when Stiles hisses. Derek frowns—well, more deeply than usual.

"I told her not to touch you," Derek tells Stiles as he removes both his hands and stuffs them into the pockets of his leather jacket. He does not, however, take a step back. "She knows that werewolves cannot hurt any humans who are not hunters, but since you're with Scott, she sees you as the enemy."

"Great," Stiles mutters. "As if I didn't have to worry about covering Scott's ass, now I have to worry about mine, too."

"If she harms you again," Derek swears darkly, "she will be punished."

As is increasingly and alarmingly frequent, what Derek says leaves Stiles at a loss for words. It's normally so easy for him to fall back on his admittedly sarcastic and cynical humor, but there's something so blatant and honest about Derek that all of Stiles' jokes fall flat. There's also the plethora of pesky feelings that rise in Stiles' chest at the promise: irritation and suspiciousness, of course, but also relief, happiness, and security.

Stiles bites down on his lip to keep the sincere 'thank you' inside his mouth.

"So what is this little visit about?" Derek asks as Stiles tries to swallow his odd gratitude. "If you're here because Scott has a problem—"

"Besides the usual?" Stiles interrupts. "No, I'm not here because of Scott. To be honest, I'm not sure why I'm here at all. Well, I'm here because I'm curious, like killed-the-cat curious, but unfortunately I have poor impulse control. It's a curse."

"Your blabber is a curse."

"I think you mean charm," Stiles corrects. Derek gives him a deadpan stare that still manages to make Stiles nervous even though he knows, he _knows_ , that Derek would never seriously hurt him.

_Huh,_ Stiles' sudden epiphany chirps. _He wouldn't. Scott might, Erica might, and the hunters will if they have a reason, but Derek won't._

Huh.

The surety of this realization allows Stiles to bluntly ask, "Why did you bite them? And don't give me that stupid answer you gave Scott, because he may believe you, but I sure as hell don't. So what's the truth?"

"That was the truth."

Stiles tries very, very hard not to punch Derek in the face. He manages only because he remembers how his knuckles had ached for days the last time he tried. "No," he grits through clenched teeth. "No, it really isn't."

"I don't know what you want to hear," Derek snaps back. "But my answer is the same now as it was two nights ago: the pack has more power in greater numbers."

If Stiles didn't know that Scott has all the emotional sensitivity of a brick, he would have wondered how his best friend could have missed the neutral set of Derek's mouth and the conviction bright in his eyes. Derek's entire body is curved forward, leaning closer into Stiles' personal space; they're inches apart, now, and Stiles' anger bleeds from him, the wound of insight fatal.

"You told Scott it was about power." Stiles feels his frowning mouth rise into a grin. He's helpless to stop it. "You lied to him by telling him the truth."

"I didn't lie to him." Derek gives nothing away, but then again, that has always been his tell. Stiles has seen it too many times—on Derek, on his father, on himself—to not know what the blank expression really means.

"You misled him, Derek, it's essentially the same thing." At this point, Stiles' grin is full-blown and his wicked, traitorous hands have unfurled from his sides and sought shelter in the folds of Derek's warm leather jacket. "That's mean, even for you."

"I never said I was nice," Derek breathes.

"No." The word is almost inaudible as it falls from Stiles' mouth. "You never did."

The problem with being sixteen and having a werewolf for a best friend means that Stiles is missing out on important developmental milestones, like playing his first lacrosse game or getting to enjoy a dance with his long-time crush.

Or, you know, receiving his first kiss.

It makes him jealous, sometimes, to see how happy Scott is with Allison. The envy makes Stiles feel guilty, but it isn't enough to stop entirely. He knows he's not as muscular as some of the other boys and that his rambling can be irritating, but he likes to think that he's a genuine, interesting, and caring person. "Anyone would be lucky to have Stiles Stilinski as their man," he tells his reflection, because in the face of the supernatural and the fishbowl that is high school, sometimes this can be difficult to remember.

It's too soon to say exactly what this thing between Stiles and Derek is. Stiles isn't ready for it—and he has a strange feeling that Derek isn't, either. There is too much between them that is unsaid and unknown, but for once, Stiles isn't in a hurry. Derek has let Stiles peek inside, exposed an old hurt and shown vulnerability, and says nothing when Stiles presses his wide palm against Derek's ribcage.

For now, it's enough.

.

"Power," Derek told Scott simply, with a simple shrug, because it is the simple truth.

Stiles loves Scott, he really does. Scott has been his best friend for years. They've been through thick, they've been through thin. This does not mean, however, that Stiles isn't painfully aware of how Scott takes nearly everything at face value.

"What do Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all have in common?" Stiles asks Allison and Scott that night. They're sitting in his Jeep, parked somewhere deep in the woods where no one can find them.

"They've all been bitten by Derek?" Scott guesses, wrinkling his nose. Allison smiles fondly at her boyfriend and runs her long fingers through his hair affectionately.

"Besides that." Stiles rolls his eyes. "How about this: what do Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all want?"

"I don't know!" Scott whines. "The bite? To become werewolves?"

Stiles can see the exact moment Allison figures it out. Her entire face brightens with the realization, and she blurts, "Power!"

Unfortunately, Scott never cottons on unless it's spelled out for him.

"Jackson was afraid," Allison continues quickly. "He needed the bite to be brave. Isaac was abused by his father, so he needed the bite to stand up to that oppression. Erica had epilepsy, and the bite cured her illness. And Boyd was alone, but he joined a pack."

"Yeah?" Scott looks between Allison and Stiles, the dim light making his eyes shine eerily. "I knew all that already."

"Scott," Allison says in exasperation, but her sigh is mostly in jest. "You said it yourself that night in the woods. A pack isn't just power for the alpha; it's power for everyone. That's what Jackson and the others have in common. They all wanted the power to overcome the worst in their lives, and Derek gave them that chance."

"I'm pretty sure we're still on different pages."

"Hey dumbass." Stiles punches Scott lightly in the bicep. "Derek, not bad guy. Derek, not good guy. Derek ambiguous dude who offers scared, sick, and lonely kids a second chance. Translated into Derek-speak, power."

It is supremely hilarious when Scott finally gets it, understanding smoothing the harsh lines of his scowl. Stiles and Allison both laugh until they can barely breath. Scott crosses his arms and pouts in exaggeration, which Allison tries to soothe with a kiss on the cheek, but the gesture is ruined by her inability to stifle her giggling.

"I still think it's a very bad idea," Scott mutters when Stiles and Allison have calmed down.

"It is," Allison and Stiles say in unison.

"Derek shouldn't be forming a pack so soon and so quickly." Allison blows a stray strand of her dark hair out of her eyes. "To my dad and the other hunters, it practically screams weapons escalation. The more werewolves there are in Beacon Hills, the more nervous they become."

Stiles plows on once Allison is finished. "I'm not saying that you have to agree with what Derek is doing. Hell, neither do I. But Derek isn't just doing this for himself; he genuinely believes that having the ability to sport fangs and fur will help them. Sure, the bite wasn't the best thing that ever happened to you, but for Isaac, for Erica, for Boyd? It might be."

"We can't trust him, Stiles!" Scott says. "Do you remember what happened last time?"

"Worse things happened when we didn't," Stiles points out. "Just think it over, okay? I know it sounds crazy, but even though we don't think we're part of his pack doesn't mean he doesn't think we are. He'll help us, Scott, whether we want him to or not."

Scott is silent for a long time. Allison keeps her hands over his clenched fists that entire time, offering him silent support.

"I don't like it," Scott says grudgingly. "And I still don't trust him, but okay. Let's do this."

Stiles lets out a loud whoop and nearly breaks his hand when he throws his arms up in triumph, his knuckles cracking against the metal roof of his Jeep. Scott laughs at him and, just like that, everything is back to as normal.

Well, as normal as normal gets for them, anyway.

.

Stiles doesn't tell Scott and Allison everything about his meeting with Derek. Why should he? He doesn't have to; he's done what he needed to do. He has unveiled the truth of behind Derek's words and has convinced Scott that it would be best to help Derek, if not outright join him. Scott is still skeptical but if—when—the time comes for Stiles to do more, he'll do it.

And if Stiles thinks wistfully about the way Derek's heart beat beneath his touch, well, that's nobody's business but his own.


End file.
